


don't dare touch the fire

by ships_to_sail



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/pseuds/ships_to_sail
Summary: He pulls on David’s hair, hard enough that it has to hurt, but David just closes his eyes and smiles a soft, dreamy little smile. He’s breathing heavily and chewing on the corner of his sloppy mouth and Patrick wants to ruin him. Right here, a few hours after opening, in their general-but-specific store in the middle of town. He literally does not care, and Patrick isn’t used to being the kind of guy who doesn’t care about breaking the rules. Doesn’t care about getting caught.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 21
Kudos: 219





	don't dare touch the fire

The thing with spending a good portion of your adolescence and early adult life sleeping with people you’re not really attracted to is that, once you find the person you ARE attracted to, all bets are off. Patrick has never really thought of himself as a deeply sexual person. Sure, he's had sex, and occasionally even had good sex, but if asked he'd have said he was just one of those guys who could kind of take sex or leave it.

Until he meets David Rose. And then, all Patrick wants to do is take it. Or give it, turns out he isn’t so picky. The first time he touches David, he feels his own body come alive in a way that’s so new, it threatens to knock him off his feet and have him coming in his pants like a teenager. Which, come to think of it, he’d never actually done even as a teenager. And that feeling, of being slowly warmed from the inside out until every inch of skin exposed to David is on fire, it doesn’t go away after the first time. Or the second. Or the fiftieth. It’s intense, and Patrick spends a lot of time thinking about the ways he can get his body to calm down when it comes to his urge to touch David, all the time.

“I don’t see why you’re trying to stop,” David teases him while spritzing plants at the front of the store. He’s wearing a dark grey screen-printed sweatshirt and a pair of drop-crotch black shorts with tall grey socks. It’s an outfit Patrick knows it well, because he’s already pulled it off of David twice - once last night, after a long day of chatty customers, and once again this morning after they’d both showered and David was getting ready to open the store. He’d been late, and Patrick had given him a hard time over it, telling him he knew he was on a deadline and it’s not Patrick’s fault David chose to ignore that.

He conveniently ignores the part where David chose to ignore it because he had his lips stretched around Patrick’s dick, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing Patrick until his nose bumps again the little nest of pubic hair at Patrick’s base.

“David. I cannot spend the entire day walking around, thinking about getting you naked.” He says it quietly, even though they’re alone in the store, and he walks towards David slowly, abandoning a pile of receipts on the counter.

“You’ve said that. Several times now. You just haven’t actually explained why not.”

Patrick gives him that little half-sigh, half-laugh and continues to walk towards him, pressing into his space and walking him backwards until David’s back is pressed against the ladder shelves. Patrick slips the watering can out of his hand and sets it behind him, leaning further into David’s space, turning his head at the last minute to press his lips to the pulse point directly below David’s ear. David ‘hmms’ gently against him.

“Still not hearing an explanation,” he teases, his voice breathy and low.

“Shut up, David,” and Patrick kisses his neck again, sucking gently on the same spot, swirling his tongue and scraping gently with his teeth. David makes another little noise beneath him and stretches his neck imperceptibly further, like if he opens up enough of himself Patrick will consume him entirely.

Patrick wraps his right hand around David’s neck, tangles his fingers into the shorter hairs and pulls him closer, giving him the touch both of their bodies are screaming for. His other hand brushes firmly over the front of David’s crotch, where he can feel his erection growing quickly.

“Fuck,” Patrick moans. He wants to see it, wants to lay David down on the freshly mopped hardwood floors and look at every inch of him in the midmorning light. He’d be so beautiful, the black wiry hair spread across his chest, the softness around his middle that Patrick loves to dig his fingers into, loves to leave bruises on when they’re fucking so hard they lose track. The way his long legs fit into the cut of his hips like a secret made just for Patrick. He wants to see it all, and the fact that he can’t not now, frustrates him.

He pulls on David’s hair, hard enough that it has to hurt, but David just closes his eyes and smiles a soft, dreamy little smile. He’s breathing heavily and chewing on the corner of his sloppy mouth and Patrick wants to  _ ruin  _ him. Right here, a few hours after opening, in their general-but-specific store in the middle of town. He literally does not care, and Patrick isn’t used to being the kind of guy who doesn’t care about breaking the rules. Doesn’t care about getting caught.

He uses his free hand to unbutton and unzip David’s pants, and between the height difference and the fact that he’s only using one hand, it’s rougher than he intends. It frustrates him, that he can’t get the pants undone, that he can’t stop himself from doing this here, now, that he can feel all the blood rushing to his own dick, loving all of this way to much. He pushes David's shorts and underwear down just far enough to free his erection, and then he's got David underneath him and it's exactly what he's been wanting. 

He wraps a fist around David and pumps twice, slowly, feeling his length and remembering what it felt like to have David fucking into him, slow and dirty, not eight hours ago. David groans and lets his head fall back into Patrick’s hand. Patrick stops, his hand at David’s base, and the lack of friction makes David whine, his hips bucking. Patrick looks down and watches, licking his lips at the sight of David’s cock, thick and almost purple at the head, disappearing into the confines of his pale fist. It makes Patrick feel dizzy for a moment, and he drops his head to David’s shoulder. 

David pulls against Patrick’s grip to kiss him on the top of the head, but Patrick pulls him back, putting him in place for a crushing kiss as he begins to move his hand again, slowly at first, faster and harder as precome begins to gather at the head. Patrick swipes at it with his thumb, squeezes a bit on the way down, uses his thumb to press into the soft flesh on the underside of David’s dick. David bucks his hips again and Patrick leans into him, using his body weight to hold David in place. The hand in his hair unwraps and makes its way to the side of David’s neck. The fingers wrap around the side of his jaw while his thumb comes to rest on David’s pink, swollen lips. 

Patrick takes a deep, shaky breath through his nose and begins to jerk him off in earnest. David’s lips wrap around his thumb, first to suck on it playfully, which Patrick will admit gets him very, very hot. He can feel his own dick straining against the soft cotton and sturdy denim he always wears, and the more he thinks about it, the more he can feel every shift of his body sparking him closer to orgasm. And then David bites down on Patrick's thumb hard enough to leave an imprint of his teeth. Patrick thinks about how people can be identified after death by their teeth, how marks like that can be used to recognize people when they're gone. It's a morbid thought, but oddly hot, and Patrick hisses, taking a step back and pulling some of his body weight off of David.

The minute he has the space, David's hips are moving and Patrick whispers "good boy" in his ear and the look on David's face is a Renaissance painting, a religious experience. Patrick finds a rhythm that matches David's, relentless and aggressive, until David bites down on his thumb again, twice in a row, short little jabs of teeth that mean he's about to come. Patrick pulls his hand out of David's mouth and reaches down to grab David's black boxer-briefs, pulling them up just in time to catch David's orgasm. Patrick cups his hand around David inside his underwear, trying to catch as much of David's come as he can, and it's filthy and chaotic and feels so god damn good because that's exactly how David makes Patrick feel, too.

Patrick eases David through the last few waves of his orgasm, waiting until he feels David start to go soft in his hand before pulling away and working to rearrange David's underwear so it sits comfortably. He wipes his palm across the front and then meets David's eye as he raises his hand to his mouth and licks himself clean.

And it's not like he ever forgot they were in the middle of the store, right in front of the giant picture window, but now that David is standing in front of him, completely undone, his own erection still pressing painfully into his fly, he realizes just how fucking stupidly reckless this all is. He presses down the panic and smirks at David before turning without another word and making his way into the small employee bathroom.

He jerks off as quietly as he can, which takes practically no time, and good thing because he's just finished cleaning himself up when he hears the bell above the door ring and David's customer voice talking a group of middle aged women through their locally sourced face products. Patrick feels that post-orgasm calm settle into his bones, which makes it easy to put on a smile and take his normal spot behind the register.

David looks completely normal, his hair perhaps slightly more mussed, his lips just a little pinker, his cheeks a little more flushed. If you didn't know, you'd he looked the same way he did after he finished unloading stock. Except, Patrick does know, and he has to keep his eyes glued to the computer screen to avoid grinning at David in a way that will tell the whole world what just happened.

After what feels like a million questions and fifteen minutes waffling between products, the women finally leave. Patrick adds their receipt to the pile he was working on before his impromptu hand job. 

"I'll have you know I had to throw away those underwear, and they were not cheap."

"I'm sorry to hear that, David."

"Yeah, well, you certainly sound remorseful." He's going for huffy and falling about a half a mile short.

"Consider it an object lesson in why it's a bad idea for me to give in to the things I want to do to you, like,  _ all the time. _ " And Patrick still wants to get his hands all over David, even now, even after, still wants to take his time exploring his body and his mind and every facet of this gem of a man. But it's almost noon, and the foot traffic will be picking up soon.

So while David sputters, looking for the perfect comeback, Patrick grabs his keys and walks out from behind the counter, pecking David on the cheek. "I'll grab you something from the Café."

The door is almost all the way closed when he hears David yell, "pie!" and somehow it's the sexiest thing Patrick has heard all day.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["The Trouble with Wanting"](https://youtu.be/PNEnvoloZQY) by Joy Williams, a song that sounds very sweet and that I turned into an anthem for  
> Patrick's horniness.
> 
> I found the song via a playlist from the incomparable [storieswelove](http://storieswelove.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, and I am forever grateful.


End file.
